Flames were licking up the length of his arm from where her hand rested. Savannah had somehow worked out for herself that he believed her safety was in jeopardy. “The vampire is an illusionist, much like yourself. He has practiced mimicking voices for centuries. Now he uses the talent for calling others to him. I recognized the brush of compulsion in the tone, and, of course, your mother would have chosen to use your private channel of communication, not the standard.” His voice was emotionless, not in any way condemning her blunder.

She blushed anyway. Why hadn’t she caught that? Stupid, stupid mistake. A mistake like that could have gotten her, perhaps both of them, killed. She turned to face him. Gregori’s sensual features were carefully impassive. His silver eyes merely reflected back her own image. “I guess I owe you an apology for calling you names. I acted childishly, and I’m sorry.”

He blinked. She had surprised him. Savannah felt her heart warm, a funny, melting sensation. “I want you to do something for me. I realize I am not very experienced with vampires, but rather than arbitrarily demanding my obedience, perhaps you could tell me what is going on. I’m going to rely on your judgment, Gregori. I won’t try to defy you. I just have this problem with someone telling me what to do. Even as a child I had a hard time with it—don’t you remember?” She deliberately referred to her childhood, the one happy bridge they had between them.

His mouth didn’t smile, but a hint of warmth crept into the bleakness in his eyes. “I remember. You did your best to do the exact opposite of everything you were told.”

Her smile was intriguing. Gregori couldn’t stop staring at her mouth.

“You’d think I would have grown out of it by now, but I haven’t. Try to work with me on this.”

Her enormous blue eyes pleaded with him. He felt as if he was falling into their depths. “Please.”

He wrapped a length of her hair around his wrist. “I will try, bébé, but first comes your safety. Always.”

She laughed softly. “Gregori, I know you will never let anything happen to me. It isn’t something I worry about.”

“It is uppermost in my mind.” He sounded very stern.

She tilted her chin at him. “Has it occurred to you that I have been all by myself these last five years and that nothing ever happened to me?”

Gregori smiled then, lending a sensuality to the curve of his mouth. “You have never been truly alone, chérie,never at any time. When it was too dangerous for me to be near you, I made certain others were close.”

Her quick temper flashed in spite of her every resolution not to let it. Her blue eyes scattered sparks. “You had someone watching me?”

There was something about the way the color rose in her cheeks, the flash of her eyes, the lift of her breasts when she was angry, that made him want to keep her that way. “I was not the only one, ma petite.Your father would never have allowed you to be without protection. You should have known that.”

“My own father?” How could she not have known? It would be just like Mikhail. Just like Gregori. Here she thought she had acquired such independence, that she had struck a blow for all Carpathian women, and all the time they were having her watched. “I hired a security company to work my tours,” she said, wanting him to recognize that she hadn’t been careless about her safety.

“Humans.” His tone said it all. “You needed one of us.”

“Who? Who did you trust enough, Gregori?” she asked, curious. Trust would be alien to his nature. What other male would he have entrusted his lifemate’s safety to? It seemed so out of character for him.

Gregori pushed a hand through the shaggy mane of hair falling to his broad shoulders. His neck hurt. Absently, he tried another massage. “Some situations call for extreme measures. I chose the strongest, most powerful man I knew, one with an unwavering code of honor. His name is Julian. Julian Savage.”

“Aidan Savage’s twin brother. He’s here? In the city?” She had never met Aidan Savage, but she had heard of him from her father. He was a vampire hunter for the Carpathian people. Mikhail greatly respected him, and that in itself said a lot for the man. Recently he had found his lifemate. Savannah had hoped to visit them while she was in the city. They were probably as starved for someone from their homeland as she had been. “Did Aidan know his brother was here protecting me?”

“I am certain Aidan would sense his presence in the area. How could he not? They are twins. Whether Julian will choose to see him, I do not know. He is struggling with the darkness.”

Savannah turned away from those bleak, glittering eyes. So cold. So alone. So lost. Gregori. The Dark One. Her dark one. Her Gregori.She could hardly bear his pain. It didn’t show, not on that expressionless face, the face carved from pure granite, like the rock lair. It wasn’t in his pale eyes, so arctic cold they reminded her of death itself. It wasn’t in any part of his mind that he was sharing with her. She felt it all the same. His heart, her heart. His soul, her soul. They were one and the same. Two halves of the same whole. He didn’t know it yet, didn’t really believe it. After all, he thought it wasn’t true chemistry, that he had managed to manipulate their joining. She knew better.

She had known it when she shared her life with the wolf. Maybe not in her head, but in her heart and soul. She had known it when she reached into the black void, into the darkness, and pulled him back to her. She had known it when she shared her body with him, as innocent as she was, as inhibited as she had felt. She feared him, but she knew he was the one. Her heart and soul recognized him.

“The dawn approaches, chérie,” he said softly. “It is best if we get some sleep.” It would be best for her. His body was raging at him, wanting the feel of her skin next to his. He needed to hold her in his arms and shelter her close to his heart. For one brief moment, he could pretend he would not be forever alone. She would keep the darkness at bay for him long enough to get him through another day.

Her hand slid down the length of his arm to his hand. Her fingertips brushed the contours of his muscles. Just a skimming sensation, but his entire body clenched with hot desire. It poured into him, raged at him, molten lava surging through his blood and filling his body with piercing heat. In her innocence, she didn’t notice what she was doing to him. Her fingers laced in his trustingly.

“What about Peter? What do you think we should do to minimize the risk? Because you’re right, the press is going to give me a hard time. They follow me all over, those ratty little tabloids.” Her enormous eyes were staring straight into his silver ones.

He couldn’t look away, couldn’t let go of her hand. He couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. He was lost in those blue-violet eyes, somewhere in their mysterious, haunting, sexy depths. What was it he had decided? Decreed? He was not going to allow her anywhere near Peter’s funeral. Why was his resolve fading away to nothing? He had reasons, good reasons. He was certain of it. Yet now, drowning in her huge eyes, his thoughts on the length of her lashes, the curve of her cheek, the feel of her skin, he couldn’t think of denying her. After all, she hadn’t tried to defy him; she didn’t know he had made the decision to keep her away from Peter’s funeral. She was including him in the plans, as if they were a unit, a team. She was asking his advice. Would it be so terrible to please her over this? It was important to her.

He blinked to keep from falling into her gaze and found himself staring at the perfection of her mouth.

The way her lips parted so expectantly. The way the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her full lower lip. Almost a caress. He groaned. An invitation. He braced himself to keep from leaning over and tracing the exact path with his own tongue. He was being tortured. Tormented.